


The Flowers of Love (strangle the heart)

by TheLesbianEyre42



Category: 16th Century CE RPF, Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/F, F/M, Flower Symbolism, Hanahaki Disease, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, No beta we die like queens, Rating May Change, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLesbianEyre42/pseuds/TheLesbianEyre42
Summary: No one ever thinks it’s going to be them. No one thinks that they will be the unlucky ones. Everyone clings onto that hope, that they’ll never feel the prickle in their throat, the weight in their chest. They think:It won’t be me.I’m normal.My soulmate loves me.I’m not like them.No one thinks they’ll die of flowers.When Anne Boleyn sails back to England, she meets Catherine of Aragon. What happens next becomes the stuff of folklore and fairytales. The tale of how love lived on, even in death.ORThe author writes the hanahaki historical AU that absolutely nobody asked for, while taking serious creative liberties with the historical accuracy in the name of Araleyn.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn/Henry VIII of England, Catherine of Aragon/Henry VIII of England, Mary Boleyn/Henry VIII of England
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	1. CHAPTER ONE

**Author's Note:**

> _No one ever thinks it’s going to be them. No one thinks that they will be the unlucky ones. Everyone clings onto that hope, that they’ll never feel the prickle in their throat, the weight in their chest. They think:  
>  It won’t be me.  
> I’m normal.  
> My soulmate loves me.  
> I’m not like them.  
> No one thinks they’ll die of flowers._  
> When Anne Boleyn sails back to England, she meets Catherine of Aragon. What happens next becomes the stuff of folklore and fairytales. The tale of how love lived on, even in death.

CHAPTER ONE  
No one ever thinks it’s going to be them. No one thinks that they will be the unlucky ones. Everyone clings onto that hope, that they’ll never feel the prickle in their throat, the weight in their chest. They think:  
_It won’t be me.  
I’m normal.  
My soulmate loves me.  
I’m not like them._  
No one thinks they’ll die of flowers.  
…  
Catherine of Aragon considered herself lucky. Not only did her soulmate love her, but she was married to him. Henry was a loving husband, even if he did stray. Even if he made… mistakes.  
She was luckier than most.  
Walking quickly, Catherine suppressed a sigh. She was in public after all, and it wouldn’t do to appear distressed by what was an unfortunate fact of life. Her lady-in-waiting, Lucy Talbot, had discovered her soulmate. It was not her husband.  
It had been an innocent touch, a brushing of hands as a goblet was taken, that had shattered her world. Lucy’s fingertips were now red, as dark as the wine that had splattered the carpet, as telling as the whispers spreading outward from her room like ripples on a pond. The mark would fade with time, vanishing completely after a few weeks. There would be no sign of what had happened. No one would know.  
Except for them.  
Catherine touched her fingers to her cross around her neck, saying a quick prayer of thankfulness that this had been all that occurred. That the stain was all that appeared. For as sad as it was, that Lucy and the footman were fated to love each other, at least it went both ways. At least the flowers would not appear.  
No one quite knew how it happened. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that if the love between soulmates was not returned, if one party loved and the other did not? If both knew they were soulmates and one still did not feel love? Then all that could happen was loss.  
Catherine walked into her room, closed the door, and sat down on her bed. Laying her head on her hands, she allowed herself to feel sorrow and pity for a moment. Then she raised her head and became Queen Catherine once more. Henry would soon be back.  
…  
Across the ocean, thousands of miles away from the cold room in England, a young woman sat, looking down at her book. She wished to read but could not concentrate on anything but the ever-present itch in the back of her throat. She took in a shaky breath and felt the leaves brush against the back of her throat. Holding back rage at the thought of her unknown soulmate, Anne sighed wearily and picked up her scissors, ready to cut.


	2. CHAPTER TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see more of Anne and get some more background. Catherine watches Henry dance and reflects on her soulmark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We see more of Anne and get some more background. Catherine watches Henry dance and reflects on her soulmark.

CHAPTER TWO  
“Of course, a marriage will be arranged in time, but it is early yet. Besides, the prospects are more favourable back in England, and there are many more young men available there. Perhaps an alliance-”  
Anne tried to prevent her boredom from showing as she sat demurely in her seat, eyes fixed on the ground. Her sister and brother were sitting next to her, lost in their own thoughts. Anne risked a glance at them, smiling faintly at their bored expressions as their father droned on. Pursing her lips at her father’s choice in subject, Anne fought to keep her expression neutral. Only the rhythmic drumming of her fingers on her knee gave away her displeasure at the topic.  
Marriage was… complicated, to say the least, thought Anne wryly. It was hard to find a man to marry you, even if you were uncommonly pretty, when you were near constantly spitting up flowers. Men didn’t want a woman with the flowers, for it was a reminder that no matter how much you cared for her, she did not care for you. They found it difficult to stomach.  
Anne had never met her soulmate.  
She had begun coughing up amaryllis flowers when she was eight, before she had felt any romance at all. She sometimes felt a sort of bitter pride at it. It wasn’t enough for her to have flowers, oh no. She had to have a rare case of flowers. It wasn’t that her soulmate didn’t love her. Her soulmate thought they’d found their soulmate. They had given up on her.  
Anne knew it was stupid, she knew it was futile, but she still felt angry. Her soulmate was supposed to be the one, the person she was made for and they had given up on her when she was _eight_. She didn’t understand how you could love someone other than your soulmate. She didn’t understand how it wasn’t a betrayal.  
“Anne?” her father asked sharply. “Were you listening to a word I said?”  
Anne stiffened in her seat and raised her head.  
“No Father. Sorry Father.” She replied quietly.  
“This is of the utmost importance, Anne. Your marriage is what secures your place and ours, and it could make or break our family. We have decided to return to England from France to search for suitable husbands for you and Mary. Pack.”  
…  
At the banquet, Catherine sat alone at the largest table, surrounded by noise that failed to intrude upon her bubble of icy calm. She sat stiff and poised as a statue, maintaining her posture and her expression of calm benevolence as she sipped her wine. Henry was dancing again.  
He’d led a young woman out to dance, who could not have been more than twenty summers. She was wearing a fashionable dress of light green fabric that flowed freely around her legs. Henry’s hand was on her waist and he was gazing down into her eyes. Catherine’s hand tightened its hold on her goblet. It was only the thought of her soulmark that kept her calm.  
It had been the width of Henry’s hand, curling around her wrist and arm possessively. She remembered looking down at it with pride. Purple, she’d said with a hint of satisfaction, the colour of royalty. It had been tender, even as it faded from purple to blue to green, lasting nearly two weeks. She had felt irritation then, that it took so long to fade, that it hurt at all. Now she felt only gratitude. It was the only thing keeping her in her seat. It was only thing keeping her calm.  
It was the only thing keeping her safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's a lot of exposition right now, but I'm trying to get the ground rules established. Things should get more exciting soon, don't worry. Please leave kudos or a comment, and constructive criticism is always welcome!
> 
> NOTE: I have fiddled with history a bit so Catherine never married Arthur. She came out to England to marry Henry, because it just makes the age difference a bit less severe and means Catherine has only her relationship with Henry as guidance for what relationships should look like. Expect more fiddling.


	3. CHAPTER THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Boleyns arrive in England, Catherine hears of them and they meet the king.

CHAPTER THREE

The boat rocked from side to side, and Anne tightened her grip on the rail. The sea breeze whipped through her hair, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She cherished moments like this, when the magic of nature swept through her, and the only thing in her lungs was air. It was only a momentary reprieve from the flowers, but it was a welcome one. Perhaps she could spend more time outside in England.  
“Anne! Come away from the edge, please do. The breeze cannot be good for your - well. Condition.”  
Mary Boleyn’s voice carried clearly on the breeze, and Anne suppressed a groan. She loved her sister, truly she did, but did Mary have to be so boring?  
…

“Oh, Catherine, did you hear? There are two more girls coming to court next week.”  
“Girls?” Catherine replied, raising her eyebrow at Maria de Salinas. Maria may have been used to court, indeed Catherine’s oldest friend, but she was awful at describing people. ‘Girls’ could have meant children or fully grown women for all the way’s Maria used it.  
“Well, women, I suppose. Apparently, one is around twenty-four and the other twenty-six. They are supposed to be quite beautiful.”  
“Are they educated? Why have they not been at court beforehand?” Catherine asked with a frown. If they were well bred enough to come to court now, and were beautiful enough to attract husbands, then custom (and mercenary families) dictated that they came to court.  
“Oh, they had a complete education. They’ve spent most of their lives living in the French court. The elder is a true English rose, but the younger is said to be the brilliant one. Their brother is coming too.”  
Catherine frowned, the details reminding her of reports and rumours she heard from the French court.  
“The Boleyn’s? The father was the English ambassador, and he had two daughters and a son.”  
“Yes, that was the name. Do you know of them?” asked Maria.  
“I knew Thomas Boleyn as the ambassador, and I had heard… rumours about the elder daughter.” Catherine pursed her lips. If the French king had truly said such things… Well then Mary Boleyn was no honourable lady.  
“Ah.” murmured Maria tactfully, falling silent. They sat still for a moment, thinking of the implications of this family returning to court. A thought occurred to Catherine, and her mouth curved into a sly smile.  
“You said the youngest was brilliant?”  
“Yes, politically and academically bright, with a sharp wit. Why do you ask?”  
“Well,” Catherine paused, her smile growing, “with Lucy returning to her husbands’ estate, I may be in need of a new lady-in-waiting.”  
…

Anne stood confidently next to her siblings, with their father in front of them, bent low in a bow. She looked around discreetly, noting with delight the colour scheme of red and gold and the opulent décor. The palace was beautiful.  
She returned her focus to the king as he finished speaking to her father. She watched him carefully as he called her and her siblings. Anne felt a twist of anxiety in her stomach as she saw the way the king looked at Mary. Her sister did not need any more of a reputation. The French king had made sure of that. But what a king wanted, a king would get.  
With shock, Anne noticed that someone else had noticed the king’s attraction to Mary. A handsome woman in her early thirties was sitting to the side of the room, with ladies sitting around her. She wore an exhausted, bitter expression and was caressing her left wrist as she stared at the king. Anne felt a rush of sympathy for the older woman as she realised that this must be Queen Catherine.  
“So you must be Anne. Of the courts you have seen, how does this one compare? Is it superior? Answer quickly, for my vanity wishes a favourable reply.”  
With a start, Anne realised that the king was addressing her. She turned to him and answered quickly,  
“Well, that will depend.”  
“On what?”  
“On the people, the place and my place here. I will surely see the world differently from the place of a newcomer rather than that of a king. You must appreciate that difference, and tolerate my impertinence.”  
The king leant back, looking mildly impressed, and out of the corner of her eye Anne saw Catherine lean forward slightly. She felt a tickle in her throat.  
Anne smiled coyly, closing her mouth against the vines that spilled from her throat and pushed against her lips. The amaryllis flowers were growing and life at court had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the update schedule might be a bit non-existent. I'll update whenever I have one chapter ahead written, so chapter four is written and will be posted once I have chapter five done. That might take me a little longer though, as at the moment it's being a little resistant. Please leave comments and kudos, constructive criticism is always welcome and I hope you are enjoying the story!


	4. CHAPTER FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne has her first conversation with Catherine and we finally start moving somewhere emotionally.

CHAPTER FOUR.  
Anne walked quietly through the gardens, marvelling at the roses that sprouted from the bushes and almost overwhelmed her with their powerful scent. The design of the grounds was simple compared to the lavish extravagance of the French courts, but it was beautiful.

There were no amaryllis flowers.

They had been everywhere at the French court, invading her life and constantly reminding her, over and over and over again, of her disease. Her flowers. It was a relief, in a way, to imagine that she could escape from the reminder here. To forget, if only for an hour, that she could never love truly.

Ducking through a gap in the bushes, Anne caught sight of a low stone bench under an old oak tree. Beneath it, sitting so still as to seem a statue, was Queen Catherine.  
Anne stopped awkwardly, unsure of what to say. What was there to say to Catherine when Anne’s own sister was sleeping with the King? Nevertheless, she approached cautiously. Perhaps out of sympathy, perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps for some other, inscrutable reason. But still she approached.  
“Your Highness?”  
“Why are you here?” The Queen’s response was cool and controlled.  
“I… I suppose I want to say I’m sorry.”  
The Queen turned in confusion.  
“Why? You are not the one sleeping with my husband.”  
“I know. But Mary is my sister, and I still feel responsibility for her actions, and for the hurt she causes.”  
Queen Catherine’s posture softened slightly, sadness and exhaustion seeping into her.  
“I do not blame her wholly. She is not the first, and she will not be the last. She is just one in a line of girls.” The queen finished abruptly, as though she had not intended to reveal this much. Anne hesitated, unsure, but reached out and touched The Queen’s shoulder, trying to convey her sympathy. She chose her next words carefully, trying to comfort but not offend.  
“You know… Mary and the other girls will never replace you. I love my sister, but she does not have your sense, your gravity, your firmness. A pretty face with an empty head could never replace your mind. If the King truly loves you, he will not leave you for girls like my sister.”  
The Queen raised her head slightly in pride and said,  
“I know he loves me. He is my soulmate.”  
“I know.”  
Queen Catherine looked at Anne in astonishment. Anne shrugged and smiled wryly.  
“Rumours. People talk about how you never show anger at him,no matter what he does. They assume it must be because you are soulmates.”  
The Queen looked at the ground.  
“I could never leave him,” she said with a slight trace of fear in her voice. She rose quickly and walked away as fast as she could. Anne looked after with astonishment. If she had not heard wrong, Queen Catherine had spoken with fear. Fear of her husband.  
Anne had heard of such things before but had never experienced such or witnessed it. The rage that always simmered away inside her flared into life, directed at the King. How could he treat his Queen this way?

...

Catherine thought of her conversation with Anne. She had revealed far too much, had spoken far too freely. Henry would be furious. It was simply too dangerous to spend time around that strange little imp, Anne.  
And yet…  
When Maria gave her the list of potential new ladies-in-waiting, Anne’s name caught her eye. She couldn’t deny it, Anne was smart. She was accomplished and witty and would make a wonderful companion. That was all.  
Of course she made her a lady-in-waiting.   
…

Anne looked around her new room with a smile. It was comfortable, it was beautiful, and best of all, it was private. There was little chance she would be disturbed whilst cutting the amaryllis flowers and the cool English weather even meant that there was a fireplace in her room, which she could use to burn her flowers.   
She had to admit, it was a shock to be appointed as a lady-in-waiting. After her conversation with Queen Catherine, she had thought herself to have offended the Queen, judging by her response. But surely her words of two days ago could not have been hurtful if the Queen had placed her in this high position, as close as you could be to a queen.  
Thinking of Queen Catherine gave Anne a warm glow in her stomach. Perhaps now they could get to know each other better still, and Anne could find out more about her.   
An itch in her throat distracted Anne from her thoughts and the amaryllis stem sprouted from her throat. With a sigh, she picked up her scissor, the warmth in her stomach curdling into a bitter, heavy feeling. Some days she truly hated her soulmate.  
….

A month later, as she held a sobbing Mary in her arms as she wept over the loss of the King’s affections, Anne would think back to the Queen and their conversation in the garden. Catherine had been right.  
…

Under an old oak tree and a low stone bench, star-like purple flowers glistened in the morning dew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! I hope you enjoyed their first proper meeting and didn't find the dialogue too stilted. the chapters are definitely getting longer - this one was 862 words and Chapter five is longer still! Also, I'm back at school properly now, so updates could slow down a lot because the teachers give monstrous amounts of homework. Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed this story and constructive criticism is always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first multi-chapter fic. I've written the first few chapters and will try to keep to an update schedule. Chapters will be about 400-700 words long each. I have an outline that I will stick to but the amount of chapters is not fixed. I hope you enjoy this and please leave kudos and a comment! Any constructive criticism is welcome!


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